While living in Argentina for a year during the 1990s, Turners Falls resident Lilian Autler translated some of her voluminous poetry into Spanish. This resulted in a chapbook titled “Human/Nature, Naturaleza/Humana: Two-tongued poems / Poemas con doble lengua.” The collection explores “our human nature in all its beauty and brutality,” she said.
Autler started writing poetry at an early age and has kept it up throughout her nearly 60 years. “As a kid, I read a lot and went into the woods to write in my journal,” she said. “As a teen, I did a lot of creative writing. I’ve always used writing to express how I experience the world, life, and nature.”
Those who hold the view that poetry chapbooks are a dime a dozen might benefit from reading Autler’s work; her slim volume of about 20 poems contains startling observations, touching on loss, full-throttled joy, and everything in between. Since this is the 30th anniversary of April’s designation as National Poetry Month, it’s a great time to check out an art form that often gets short shrift, and Autler’s poems are a fine place to start.
Some of Autler’s work delves into grief, as with this closing stanza from “How it Happened,” about her father’s death:
After a last shuddering breath,
as deep as you could muster,
your imploring eyes turned inward.
The pain inside you subsided, sublimated.
It hovered on our faces, entered our skin,
became ours.
A faltering relationship inspired Autler to write “Wabi-Sabi,” in which the first stanza observes:
Once I saw a rose give up the ghost.
It dropped its petals all at once
a final sigh
stunningly silent.
The last stanza brings it home:
This love
stunning
ephemeral
imperfect
impermanent
incomplete…
Hear it sigh.
In “A Little Mystery,” Autler contemplates the goodness of taking time and space for oneself:
To restore a little mystery, a little wonder,
a pool of cool shadow to rest in, out of the glaring sun …
She translated it as follows:
Restaurar un poco de misterio, un poco de asombro,
un remanso de sombra fresca en donde descansar, fuera del sol
deslumbrador …
“In Argentina, a poet who didn’t speak or read English helped me [on the project],” she said. “Working with her was compelling: I discovered that some Spanish words were a thousand times better than ones I’d used in English.”
Upon returning to the U.S., Autler began doing readings in California and Massachusetts. While living in California, Autler participated in the CA Poets in the Schools project. She also worked with Poetry Inside Out, which offers a translation curriculum.
“Working with students, we’d start with a poem in a language other than English, listening to the poem, sounding it out and guessing at its meaning. After discussing the context and learning about the poet, students attempted a literal translation using a glossary,” Autler said
Next, participants collaborated to create a more poetic translation into English. “We used translation as a springboard for close reading, precise writing, and creative thinking involving works in Chinese, Italian, Russian and many other languages,” she said.
Autler grew up mostly in suburban Weston; her family lived in Switzerland for a couple of years starting when she was 3 years old. “As a child, my outside-of-the-U.S. reference was Europe,” said Autler, whose mother was born in Czechoslovakia and grew up in Austria. “My mother spoke a number of languages and taught me German. Later, I lived in France during high school.”
In college, while studying Spanish, Autler became interested in Latin American culture, history, and politics. “I learned that I have different personalities or moods when speaking different languages. Spanish opened up parts of me that I hadn’t been able to fully express — a warm, gregarious, loving side — different from what I learned growing up in New England,” she said. Her interdisciplinary undergraduate years at Yale focused on Latin American and women’s studies.
“I went to live in Mexico, supposedly to study,” said Autler, “but the university was on strike the whole time, so I joined a local modern dance group.” Later, she worked in Boston with Oficina Hispana, a community organization, where she taught ESL and worked closely with immigrants from Latin America. She later returned to Mexico and worked with activists advocating for new urban migrants, helping them gain land titles and establish a political presence.
“That was a big political education,” said Autler. “I learned about the relationship between social and political movements.”
She spent time in Chile when that nation was just emerging from the Pinochet era. She said she discovered a marked contrast “between those who were poor in Chile and poor in Mexico. Mexicans were generally loud and believed that they had rights. In Chile, poor people remained hidden.”
Autler’s adventures while living, working and traveling in Latin America in her mid-20s “was an incredibly fruitful time that inspired me to study urban planning,” she said. Her propensity for traveling widely coupled with her tendency to creatively express many sides of herself–including poetic and professional aspects — is reflected in her poetry.
In “Barrio Chino, Barcelona: Deconstruction,” she witnesses the pathos of workers charged with dismantling an edifice:
The demolition of a building, a neighborhood, a history
sends people scurrying like rats
from the construction site,
all registered in your eyes
your sad eyes.
Currently employed at Greenfield Community College in an heating, ventilation, and air conditioning (HVAC) training program, Autler is a proud mom whose daughter will soon graduate from Hampshire College. Meanwhile, Autler keeps writing: “Poetry feels like the most compelling way to express and distill my experience of being in the world. I wake up around five o’clock every morning and listen to my favorite poetry podcasts, or read poems to get my juices flowing.”
Those interested in obtaining a copy of Autler’s book should contact her at Lilian.Autler@gmail.com.
Eveline MacDougall is the author of “Fiery Hope” and can be reached at eveline@amandlachorus.org.